


Impossible loves' prince

by Lumeriel



Series: Beautiful sinners [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeriel/pseuds/Lumeriel
Summary: Twice Morifinwë Fëanárion - Caranthir the Dark - has loved. Twice, his love has been those they call impossible.





	Impossible loves' prince

**Author's Note:**

> First, sorry for my pour quenya.  
> *I melme ná fírima -- Love is ephemeral  
> *I melme ná naikalea --- Love is painful  
> *I melme ná íre --- Love is desire  
> *I melme ná vanda--- Love is a promise  
> *I melme ná kwete namarië --- Love is to say goodbye  
> *filit--- little bird  
> Amil --- mother  
> Atar --- Father  
> * haruni--- grandmother.
> 
> ** Saironwë: Turgon's mother's name: sairon --- one who is wise; wë --- common termination in Quenya.

**Caranthir's POV**

_I melme ná fírima_

Love is ephemeral. It withers. Like a flower. It dries. As a fruit. I have seen it. I have seen the consequences of a love that no longer exists. I've heard stories, rumors ...  
My grandfather Mathan told me that before we were born, everyone had feared that Finwë would leave this world to follow Míriel to the Halls of Mandos, so much was his pain, his despair. In all of Aman, only the Noldóran knew sadness. Then, Indis came.  
My father never wanted Indis. He believed that she had come to interfere between his father and him. When I was a teenager, I understood why Finwë felt love to be reborn in his heart: there is no creature more beautiful than Indis the Fair. But then, also the love that Indis felt for my grandsire went out ... because the love that she felt for her children was much greater.  
Also the love between my parents withered. Atar stopped looking for Amil's company and she concentrated on her work, forgetting everything that was not her work.  
Love is ephemeral. It withers. Turns off. Go dead.  


_I melme ná fírima_

**Turgon's POV**

\- Do you love her?  
The question comes from his lips easily. There is no pain in him and that leaves a furrow of fire in my chest. If I love her? How can he ask me that question when his lips were the first I kissed? When were his hands the first ones that touched my body?  
\- It's not a matter of love - I say, slowly.  
He looks at me and again I can feel the way those dark eyes pierce my soul, seeking the truth. Years ago, he looked at me and knew fire that burned in my heart. For him.  
\- It is not? - he repeats, tilting his head on one shoulder -. Elenwë is beautiful. She looks a lot like Queen Indis.  
\- Do you think _haruni_ is beautiful? - I frown, aware that the jealousy that twists my stomach is stupid at least.  
\- I am not blind. So, do not you love the girl? - I deny again -. Why are you getting married then?  
\- Because my father wants it that way - I bow my head, sure he considers me a fool, the child I know he still sees in me. - Alkarinehtar cannot marry her.  
His eyes light up with understanding and my shoulders let go. I watch the corner of his mouth twist slightly before he takes a few steps to me. He rests his hand on my cheek and I descend a little to rest in the warm brush: in recent years, I have exceeded him a few inches.  
\- Have faith, _filit_ -, he murmurs -. You will learn to love her and be happy.  
\- And that ... will be good for you? – I ask, hesitant, unable to move away from the warmth of his touch.  
\- If you are happy ... yes -, he smile and come closer.  
I close my eyes. His lips touch mine and I open to his kiss, remembering that this will be the last time.  


**Caranthir's POV**

_I melme ná naikalea_  


Love is painful. I understood it when I was too young to even know what I was learning. My mother left the house the day after Nolofinwë married Anairë. She never knew that _I knew_. She never knew that I had been listening ... listening as Father held her against the wall and destroyed her clothes to possess her savagely. She moaned words of love ... but from my father’s lips only escaped a word when he reached liberation: the name of his half-brother.  
Then I knew that I had always known the truth, that my father did not love his wife anymore, the mother of his children, that he had stopped loving her years ago, that he loved ... whom he could not love. For years I saw the pain grow in my father, become a fire that burned his interior, his heart, his soul ... the world around.  
I also saw the pain grow in Nolofinwë. I saw the way his eyes stopped shining full of light, the way his words filled with coldness and resignation, how his pain turned into anger and ambition ... I saw how Nolofinwë enclosed love behind ice barriers to become High King, hero ... a jewel that Fëanáro Þerindion could love above all else.  


_I melme ná naikalea._  


**Turgon's POV**

\- I heard what happened. I am sorry.  
I keep my back to him. I have not seen him since we arrived in these lands. I have not seen any of them. I do not want to see them. I do not want to see if he has changed, if something in him is different ... or if he’s still the same one that filled my heart with emotions in Tirion.  
\- You’re not -, I reply and I perceive how he retraces his steps although he had started to move away. - You cannot understand.  
\- I know what it is to lose someone loved ...  
\- Do you know what it is like to feel helpless while that person moves away from you? Do you know what it's like to feel their hand slip out of yours ... and there's nothing you can do to hold them back?  
Silence answers me. Finally, I turn to observe him. A dark cape covers his shoulders and the moon starts flashing the chain mail that covers his torso and arms. He has his head uncovered and I can see that his hair has been cut, which now spills in different strands framing his hard face.  
\- No -, he answers me at last. - I only held my father's body as he crumbled to ashes.  
\- An appropriate ending - I shrug my shoulders. I cannot find compassion in me for my uncle, who abandoned us, who betrayed us, who caused Elenwë’s death.  
\- I suppose - he agrees. - Believe it or not, I feel your loss, _filit_.  
\- Do not call me that - I hiss, furious. I am no longer his young lover, the boy who burned and trembled at his kisses, the idiot who melted in his presence like ice before the fire. - If you really cared, you would have come back for me. You would not have let your father's madness separate us.  
\- I had to protect my father. One day, you will understand.  
\- One day…? One day I'll be adult enough for you to treat me like that, right? - Laughter rises to my throat, painful and bitter -. I'm adult enough, Carnistir. I have a daughter, who lost her mother, who only survived because my father saved her at the cost of his life. I had a wife, who drowned when the ice opened under her feet. I have a people who look at me with hope and fear, who crossed the Helcaraxë and saw their own people die. I have more than you will ever have.  
\- So, do you loved her?  
His question leaves me speechless. I do not know why I do it, but I say very loudly:  
\- Yes. I love her in a way you can never understand.  
He nods and bows.  
\- Lucky you - he says before turning around and away from me.  


**Caranthir's POV**

_I melme ná íre_  


Love is desire. Desire to touch, to smell, to look, to taste, to feel ... to possess.  
The first time that to look was a pleasure for me, I was a child, still sitting on my father's knees, watching a battle in the arena of Tirion Kôr. To look was my only pleasure then: the young man in the sand - unattainable for my hands - was like a giant, a beautiful and terrible animal that moved with the grace of water, he was a living gem, a hundred times brighter than the stones that Atto worked in his workshop. In that moment, my desire was to be like him, a warrior like him.  
Years passed before I wanted to touch. His son - the son of the warrior, of the beautiful animal, of the gem that my father longed to possess more than anything in the world - was the object of my desire.  
Turukáno Saironwë. My hands went to him with the fascination that moths go to light. He was purity and calm. Being so young, his voice carried gravity and wisdom, and all his gestures denounced a patience that was the other end of life for me. Then I was different: as much as I wanted to touch my precious cousin, I never dared beyond kisses and little caresses that left us both burning for more.  
When Turukáno was married to Elenwë, I believed that the sky would crumble over me, that the earth would sink under my feet. So, I never wanted to feel something like that again.  
Until I saw her.

 _I melme ná íre_  


**Haleth's POV**

For all fucking ancestors of my parents! How can someone be so damned tall? Nah! It's the helmet. With that stupid red plume and that visor adorned by ... rubies? Is he wearing rubies on his helmet? Who the hell does he think he is? Oh, heavens, it's dismantling. Where the fuck did Borg get? Why the asshole told this guy that I was the boss?  
\- Are you the leader of these people?  
Oh spirit of my mother. What a voice.  
\- So it seems ... my lord - I do not even know how I can formulate the words without sighing.  
To sigh? Why do I want to sigh? I do not sigh for a male. Brianna sighs. Sadeth sighs. The other girls sigh. I handle the ax and the bow. I cut enemies into pieces. I pull the sword from the body of the dead and go in search of the next orc to kill.  
\- You're too young - he declares and I perceive the disapproval in his tone.  
All right! I do not want to sigh anymore. I bite my tongue and clench my fists at my sides. Young? Too young?!  
\- If you had come before, you would have known my father.  
I notice that I spoke when he stops halfway through the gesture with the helmet is removed. For a second, I think he's going to turn around and leave. And he could do it, what the hell! We did not need him to win ... That is, he has just saved our asses; but that does not mean I'm going to ... Oh mother, he has the most beautiful hair in the world: two braids fall in front of his ears and the rest is a black mane that drops down to his waist like a cloak. And his eyes.  
I bite my lower lip: I will not sigh. I'm not going to ...  
\- You're right - he nods, tilting his head -. I apologize and offer you all my help to raise your town again. My healers are at your disposal ... my lady.  
I drown ... nope, I let out a moan when I realized that my sex has not gone unnoticed. With unsteady hands, I take off my helmet and feel my curls fall down my shoulders. What a horror: I must look like a sow that wallowed in orc blood.  
\- Can I offer you a roof tonight, my lady? - inquire now him. - My soldiers and I will build tents for your people to rest and bring enough food for everyone. – I just bow, unable to formulate a coherent answer -. Can I hear your name, my lady? I have not had the pleasure yet.  
\- Ah ... Haleth. My name’s Haleth ... my lord.  
\- Caranthir. You can call me Caranthir. After all, we are two leaders caring for our people.  
Caranthir. Tonight, I'm going to repeat that name in my dreams. If I get to sleep.  


They call him "the Dark ". Those who do it, do not know him. Caranthir - my Lord Caranthir - is patient and warm, a proud male - of that there is no doubt - but fair and firm. It is like a rock that you can cling to when the wind blows around you. There is pain in him. There is a sadness in his eyes that almost nobody sees. I think it could be a lost love.  
I have heard that his people come from the west, from beyond the sea and that many of them left behind wives and children to come to fight against the Great Shadow. And that's why I find it so funny that they call him the Dark.

\- It's my name.  
I look up from the fire between us. It's another night that we've gone hunting. Alone. Without escort or pack. Only us and the horses.  
\- Sorry? - I say, frowning.  
\- Dark. It's my name. Morifinwë: dark Finwë. It's the name my father gave me.  
\- I see -, I say and a part of me burns with curiosity.  
His father. Legends are running everywhere. Rumors run between the gray elves of Thargelion and the green elves of Ossiriand. He never talks about his father. I have rarely seen his brothers. The one who comes most to Thargelion is the musician, with his beautiful sad eyes and his golden voice. The other, the eldest, it’s said that he was the most beautiful creature to walk on earth and that he was a prisoner of the Great Shadow. They say that the son of Aran Einior rescued him.  
Caranthir never talks about his family. Not his father, not his brothers ... or that love he lost.  
\- My father was a genius - he says suddenly and I stay still, afraid to move so he does not interrupt -. He was the most powerful of our race ... and the most proud too. He wanted ... he wanted something he could not have ... and he was willing to burn the world for that. Is it wrong to love something so much, Haleth?  
\- Eh ... What did your father want?  
\- To be loved.  
\- That's not…  
\- To be loved above all. To be loved in an exclusive way. To be loved until the other was not able to breathe but from his lips.  
\- That's ... selfish.  
\- He did not know how to love in any other way. He loved that way and he expected the same from the other.  
I moisten my lips. I know there is something more in this night of confessions.  
\- Who wanted your father to love him like that?  
\- My uncle.  
For a second I'm about to scream.  
\- How…? - Voice fails me: I had no idea that the elves practiced incest -. How do you know?  
\- I always knew it. Since I was a child. When ... when he ordered us to burn the ships, Maitimo ... Maedhros ... fought with him. My brother wanted to come back for our cousin ... his mate, his husband ... and when father refused, Maedhros walked away, leaving us. I went to look for him. "We must take care of father," I said. He did not want to listen to me. "He's going to wake up," I explained. "And when he does, we cannot allow others to see his weakness." We surrounded our father as we watched the swanships burn and then, suddenly, his eyes lit up. I saw the pain, I felt it ... I saw how he understood that he had broken the bond that bound him to his only love. We had to put up with him so he would not throw himself into the water, into the flames. Later, when the despair passed, he only murmured that he had saved him, saved Nolofinwë. He had protected his precious love, his star.  
\- But your uncle came. - I added.  
\- And my father was dead. – He look at me over the campfire, intensely and my heart trembles in a ridiculous way -. My father never knew how much Fingolfin loved him.  
\- What do you care about? - I stand up and go around the fire to sit next to him -. Your uncle seems to be doing pretty well. Your father can no longer suffer.  
\- It scares me.  
\- It scares you? - I laugh -. What can scare the mighty Caranthir the Dark?  
\- Wishing like he did. I want to be the only one for someone ... and destroy that person with my love. I've seen it, Haleth. I have seen the pain that our love can cause. And I'm scared.  
I can barely contain the sigh of relief. Then, there is no one waiting for him there, in the west. There are no wives or lovers. There are no fiancés or companions.  
I tangle my fingers in his hair.  
\- Anyone who provokes such desire in you ... is fortunate, my lord.  
I do not perceive the movement with which he turns and takes me in his arms. I do not feel the pressure on my lips or the tongue that slides, playing with mine. All my soul is knotted in my chest, screaming euphoric while he kisses me. _Caranthir kisses me._  
\- Sorry -, he’s panting against my mouth, his arms always squeezing my waist to force me to move to his lap -. Did I misinterpreted your words, Haleth?  
\- No -, I shake my head, sinking my fingers into his hair.  
\- Do you want me to love you like that? Do you want to be the first thing for me?  
\- Do you want it? - I hesitate, watching him. - Do you want to love a mortal like that? My life will pass before you have had a chance to get used to the idea. My body will age and my hair will turn white ...  
\- I'm not interested in your body -, He shuts me up with a grunt and a kiss. My bones turn to cotton and I slide from his knees to his hips, feeling the proof of his desire against me. - There is not much to admire in your body, sincerely - he continues, kissing my neck and my shoulder -. There are not many curves and definitely, you are not an example of beauty.  
\- Hey! - I hit him in the chest, with the palms -. No wonder you do not have a woman.  
\- I do not want any woman. I love you. And I want you to love me.  
I watch him, filling my eyes and chest with his hard, exquisite beauty; a beauty that no mortal man can aspire to. But more than his perfect mouth, his aquiline nose, his arched eyebrows, his firm chin, his eyes full of stars ... it is his soul that invades my heart.  
\- Yes -, I declare against his lips -. I want. I want you to love me as yours love: until I suffocate with your love.  


**Caranthir's POV**

_I melme ná vanda_  


Love is a promise. But a promise that you cannot fulfill, that **you know** you cannot fulfill. When she began to age, my soul aged with her. I wanted to be mortal, to follow her, to accompany her on her journey wherever it took her; but that was not possible. Not for me. Not for the one who had sworn the Oath of Fëanor.  
When she slipped to death, I ran to her side. It had been years since she left with her people to other lands and we only saw each other from time to time, with the arrival of spring. For days, I was at her side, veiling her. She woke up, smiled at me and said that she had waited for me to say goodbye.  
"I want to go with you," I said against her lips. "I want to go where you go."  
"You cannot," she laughed. "You have a promise to fulfill, remember?"  
But what were the silmarils for me? The memory of my father's failure. The memory of the pain that took the light from Fingolfin's eyes. The memory of the tortures that Maedhros suffered. The memory of Turgon's sadness. The memory of my inability to follow her on her final journey.  
"I want to tie you to me," I insisted. "Forcing you to remain by my side for all eternity."  
"You cannot do that either," she laughed again. "I'm tied to you. I love you more than anything in the world and you love me the same. Not even death can break the bond between us, my lord. But now, it's my time to leave. "  
"Do not leave me, Haleth," I pleaded.  
"It will be for a while, my lord. You will not even notice it. We will meet again. "  
I held her while she left me, knowing that it was a lie, that we will never meet again ... because there cannot be love between an elf and a human. But that's what it's about, isn’t? To promise things that later you will not be able to fulfill.

 _I melme ná vanda._  


**Turgon's POV**

They do not know why I am here, why I have decided to leave the shelter of Gondolin to come to this battle. It was Lómion’s words that decided me. When, in securing the presence of the Fëanorions, my nephew believed that my pride was awakened, it was only my memory that reacted.  
To see him. I've come to fight just to see him one more time.

We have lost. With clenched teeth, I contemplate the ruined field, covered with bodies and shattered flags. Nothing remains. From the glory of our army, of the pride of our race, of the powerful armada we gather - together for the first time in hundreds of years - nothing remains but remembrance. Rumors speak of betrayal, of the human allies of Maedhros delaying him, preventing him from reaching where the High King awaited him ... the High King who was also my brother ...  
\- You are still here.  
His voice caresses my ears. I want to see him; but then I remember that it was that desire that brought me here and I wonder if this defeat will not be my fault, my punishment for having come alone moved by selfish motives.  
I turn around slowly, forcing the tears not to fall. For a second, my heart stops: a bandage covers his forehead and his left arm is in a sling. There is blood in his torn clothes. I have to contain the urge to throw myself at him and check his body for other injuries.  
\- Your brother told me I should go back to Gondolin - I say, calmly. - I think we should defend Hithlum.  
\- Hithlum has fallen, _filit_ -, he declares with more sadness than one would expect.  
\- Then, we should get it back. My father ... my father would not rest if ... - I bite my lips. My father would have slapped me when he knew my reluctance to leave Gondolin. My father must have cursed my name as he rode at the gates of Angband.  
\- Uncle would want to you to be safe - he declares, with that half smile that few have seen.  
I doubt it. My father, with all his political experience and responsibility, was impulsive, brave ... a risky madman. Like his brother.  
\- What will you do?  
\- Stay with Maedhros.  
I turn my gaze to the field. I have not seen my brother's body. There are terrible rumors about him. The last time I met his gaze, the balrogs began to surround him. Why did Alkarinehtar have to be so stupidly brave?  
\- You should let the healers check you.  
I looked down to my bandaged forearm. It's a piece of Lómion’s layer and I barely remember when he tied it to me. With a docility that I did not expect to possess yet, I follow my cousin when he grabs me by the other hand and leads me to his camp. He pushes me inside a tent that I recognize as his and with confident movements, he sheds the sling to look for water and bandages.  
\- I do not need you to take care of me - I bark the moment he tells me to sit down.  
\- I'm going to clean your wound. Nothing more, _filit_.  
\- Stop calling me that. I am no longer a child, Caranthir.  
\- No. Now you're the High King.  
\- My nephew is the king.  
Again my chest sinks when thinking about my brother.  
\- Your nephew is an infant. Until he has the necessary maturity, the responsibility falls on you.  
\- Maedhros should take over the regency. After all, he is ... was ... he ...  
Caranthir is on his knees before me. His fingers stop as they clean the cut on my arm.  
\- Do you think my brother would accept the crown that belonged to Findekáno?  
His voice is hoarse and terrible when he returns to the Quenya of our youth. He is right. Maedhros could not bear to live the life of Findekáno. He does not…  
\- I've heard rumors - I say, watching him when he goes back to work.  
\- Rumors? – He repeats, slowly.  
\- That you fell in love with a mortal woman.  
\- Those rumors.  
\- It is true?  
\- Haleth.  
I know her name. I already know that she is dead. But to hear her name on Caranthir’s lips, the one I never stopped loving, lights again that furrow that cuts my soul.  
I tighten my hand between his to catch his fingers tightly.  
\- Did you love her? - I barely recognize the raspy voice that leaves my lips.  
I notice the way his hand loosens in mine.  
\- She's dead. We will never meet again.  
The sadness in his voice pierces my heart, breaking something that remained pristine until today.  
\- That was not what I asked, Morifinwë - I demand between teeth -. Did you love her? Did you love her more than you loved me?  
I see the light of his eyes waver, like a flame that goes out.  
\- No -, he answers at the end, and I know it's a lie! - I could never love someone like I love you, _filit_.  
Lie. Lie. Lie.  
But I cling to his words because that is all that remains of happiness. I lean towards him and kiss him hard, biting his lips, pushing into his mouth with my tongue, demanding what should always belong to me.  
It's too late to claim his love, I know; however, maybe there is hope yet. Maybe I can get back the lover I lost when I agreed to marry the female who loved my brother.  
Caranthir does not move. He just lies motionless before my kisses, offering his body to my desperate caresses. Finally, he raises his hands and sink into my hair, only as a support, never responding to my passion.  
An animal roar forces us to separate. For a second, I think Morgoth's troops have returned to raze us.  
Caranthir joins up.  
\- Maedhros -, he mutters and I get up to run after him.  
It is easy to find the place where the Lord of Himring roars like a beast, barely contained by Celegorm and Curufin while Maglor tries to speak to him with soothing whispers. Caranthir launches towards them.  
I turn my head towards what provokes the bestial cries of my cousin ... and the soul falls to my feet. Who had the idea of this? Who dared to ...? Why would someone bring such a thing to the camp? Because that - that mass of broken bones and bloody flesh - is not my big brother. That's not the wonderful and funny elf that made Tirion sing with his laughter. That's not the boy who seduced his cousin. That is not the warrior that made a dragon flee. That is not the proud king who honored our father. That is not Findekáno.  
With slow steps, I approach the remains of my brother and cover them with my cloak. Only then, Maedhros' howls fade to sobs that blend with Maglor's murmurs.  
I feel a hand on my shoulder and I barely move to distinguish Caranthir's boots.  
\- I must go with my brother -, declares in my ear -. Maedhros is not well.  
\- Maedhros will never be well again - I declare.  
\- I'll see you again to say goodbye - he assures me by squeezing my shoulder with affection.  
I bow. As soon as he leaves, I go to where my soldiers are and I give the order to leave.  


**Caranthir's POV**

_I melme ná kwete namarië_  


Love is saying goodbye. It is knowing when to let go of who you love ... because that is the last proof that we love, of how much we love. Unfortunately, mine learn this lesson in the worst way.  
Maedhros learned it when he was rescued from the clutches of Morgoth. It was then that he decided to let Fingon free. He at least lived for Fingon to return to him. On the nights after the Nirnaeth, my brother told me that finally Fingon loved him, had finally learned to love him ... and those last years were of happiness.  
My father learned it when he lost Fingolfin. I remember how he repeated as we advanced to Lake Mithrim, that he had saved his brother, that Fingolfin was safe back in Aman, that nothing could stop the exquisite light of his wonderful love. The rumor spread that he made us swear to recover the silmarils once again before dying, that those were his last words; but the truth is that his hope was to return to Aman, to walk again among the living ... and to see his brother once again. Only at that moment, my father was able to say goodbye to his jewels and choose his most valuable treasure.  
My uncle, on the other hand, said goodbye to his hopes, to his heart when he arrived at Endor. There is no one left - apart from Galadriel and us - who remembers the light of Fingolfin's eyes before being crowned. There is no one left to remember the light that my father lit in him. There is no one left to know that my uncle, the most powerful of the kings of our race, said goodbye to life the day my father left him.  
Love is saying goodbye. As I said goodbye to Haleth without wanting it in my heart. Like Turgon, he knew how to leave me behind when he understood the lie I was telling him. And yet, I still loved him. Not in the same way as her; but I loved him, as only the first one who lights the light of life in our hearts is loved.  
Turgon is dead, like Haleth. And I ... I'm going to retrieve the silmaril that Lúthien and Beren stole from Morgoth.  
Lúthien. Why could she have a second time with her mortal husband? Was she more deserving of that opportunity than me? No doubt she was. But he ... was Beren more than Haleth? True, Haleth did not recover a silmaril; but she did not care about the silmarils! She cared for me ... and maybe that was enough sin for us not to have a second chance. Maybe it's time for me to settle for the time we had. Many do not manage to find love. Many find it too late.  
I have been lucky: I have loved twice. And I have been loved.  
When death finds me, it will be Haleth's face that comes to me; but there, in Aman, it will be Turgon whom I’ll find again.

_I melme ná kwetë namarië._

**Author's Note:**

> So, surely, you found that in this story Fingon's amilessë is Alkarinehtar - it means "glorious warrior" - I'm trying to use the same names in all the stories 'cause i'll go mad looking for names in quenya and sindarin. Sorry if this causes problems to you.


End file.
